Athos and Milady Meet
by Comte de la Fere
Summary: The young Count is saddened by his father's death and disheartened by the new responsibilities he faces, when fate shoves a young woman into his path. At least he believes it's fate.


Written for Lil and my Rat Race :)

The challenge was: "How did Athos met Milady de Winter all those years before when he was a count in Berry. Was it really love at first sight or did he see her around a few times and want to get to know her a bit better? (genre: romance, general)"

This isn't beta-d at all, and I wrote it in a total of 2.5 hours, so any comments and general pointing out of mistakes would be very much appreciated!  
I hope you liked it, Lil :)

The First Meeting

_I will have to release Mabey eventually. Of course, he did steal, and the merchant was within his rights to force the poor man into prison. But poverty is hardly a crime, and the man has three children to feed..._ Such gloomy thoughts occupied the young Olivier de la Fere as he wandered, quite distracted, through his town.

Comte de la Fere the elder had followed his wife to the grave only two months ago, but Olivier was not allowed the time to mourn. His father had always made clear that a Count's first duty is to his people, and that this duty certainly preceded any selfish needs. So Olivier did his best to bottle his grief and attend to the many responsibilities that confronted him. Grief still haunted him, however, as did an almost desperate loneliness, as he spent his days alone in the mansion, struggling through financial accounts and piles of letters, without the advice and kindness of the man who had been Father and friend to him for 25 years. He wondered absently what advice his Father would have given him now. "_Being selfish and self-pitying again, are we? The Count takes his morning walk through the town to be closer to his people, not to mope._" Olivier could almost see the stern yet amused expression his father would have worn. The young man smiled sadly, shook his had, looked up... and started running.

A mere twenty meters away from him, a horse was bearing down on a small child. The little boy had fallen down in the road, and the horseman, only five or so meters away, could not see him at all. It had taken Olivier less than a second to grasp the scene and dash forward, but he could already knew that he would come too late. The little boy finally noticed the horse and let out a little cry of surprise, but the murderous hooves were already raised over his head. Olivier, still too far away, gave a last, desperate, hopeless burst of speed, when some shadow dashed between him and the boy. There was a scream, the sound of a bone snapping, and the horseman was gone.

The young Count, meanwhile, had finally reached the scene of the incident only to trip and fall headlong, with only a momentary impression of having run into something warm lying in the street. When he managed to regain a vertical position and turn around, the little child was quickly scampering away, leaving his savior, a young woman, lying moaning in the street. In a moment of utter mortification, Oliver realized he must have tripped over this woman, the one who had rescued the child Olivier's own sluggishness had condemned.

He bowed deeply, before crouching beside her, his face on fire. "Mademoiselle, are … are you hurt?" _Well done. Because you couldn't see that yourself, you stupid, inarticulate, tactless... _Olivier could have found many other adjectives to describe himself, but his bitter self-reprimand was abruptly caught off.

"Monseigneur is too kind. The hooves had just barely caught my leg." She was looking up at him, almost trying to smile through her pain. She was young, hardly a woman yet, clad in the simple dress of a struggling merchant's daughter. But her earnest face, with it's brave smile, only increased Olivier's confusion.

"Please, let me help you. I... I have some basic medical training. My father had said it was required for any true nobleman to be able to help others..." _And now I'm babbling._

A lovely shade of pink had suffused the young woman's face. "No, truly, I could not impose..." She seemed lost for words herself. "We poor folk have no need of doctors. One cannot need what one can't afford, after all." As she spoke, she made a valiant effort to rise, standing on one foot.

Olivier hovered helplessly, wanting to help, yet not daring to in the face of her refusal.

She, meanwhile, still smiling bravely, tried to take a step. But the injured leg would not hold her weight, and she fell … straight into the young man's arms.

Almost instinctively, Olivier caught and held her. She clung to him for support, and he thought her touch gave him courage. He swung her up into his arms. "You cannot walk like this," he murmured almost apologetically. "Please tell me where you live, so we can get you inside."

"The inn, there, at the end of the street... but it's much too far... Monseigneur..." Her face almost shone with gratitude, and Olivier's breath stuck in his throat. Wordlessly, for he could not have talked even if he had known what to say, he turned around and walked toward the Parish. As he walked, he felt her heart beating against his, and not another word was said until they reached the door of the Parish, to see a poorly dressed young man open the door.

He seemed startled and had even opened his mouth to speak, but the she spoke first, "Charles, my brother, please, bring Monseigneur some wine. He has been so kind to me."

Charles' mouth fell open in surprise at the word 'brother,' but he obediently headed for a nearby cupboard. Olivier, however, had not seen the surprise – he saw little at all besides his charge. Carefully, he laid her down on a nearby table. Then, afraid he would not be allowed to help her if he delayed, he went about looking at her leg. Quietly, he asked Charles for water, cloth, and other implements he needed. But besides those quiet commands, not another word was spoken in the room until the young woman's wound was cleaned and carefully bandaged. Then, Olivier stepped back, suddenly keenly aware of the silence. He looked at her and was startled to see the tears staining her cheeks. She had not so much as made a sound as he worked on her leg, and this sudden evidence of the pain he must have caused her put a lump in his throat.

She seemed to perceive his discomfort and smiled again, that grateful smile that lit up her face. "Who are you, Monseigneur? Who would do so much for a poor woman?"

He knew this response, at least. It had been schooled into him. He bowed. "The Comte de la Fere, at your service, mademoiselle."

Standing behind them, Charles jumped. And she, despite her pain, made an effort to rise.

"No, please... please lie down." Olivier could almost feel his strange, inappropriate introduction hanging menacingly in this room, destroying her smile and with it, somehow, all the the things he held dear.

She obeyed his plea, at least, before she spoke again. "My lord... we are only poor folk... we have done nothing to deserve such kindness from you, my lord..." There were tears in her eyes again. Before he could speak, she hurried on, "I am Sabine, my lord, and my brother, Charles here, is a priest. Our parents had just died, and we had come here to start life a new. You … you had been so merciful to us. It is thanks to you that my brother has his job, and..." Years ran down her face, and she stopped, apparently unable to continue.

Her words, her tears seemed to pierce his heart. He remembered her brother now. The young man who had come to him, saying he had just moved into the town and asking for a job in the church. Olivier had almost not believed the man. The Count had given him recommended him to a nearby church, but he suggested to the priest that the man be given a small job, with little pay, as a test. It was his fault, then, that Sabine lived in this poor inn. And she too, had lost a father.

He would remedy that wrong. But meanwhile, there was nothing left but to depart.

He bowed low again, kissing her hand.

"My Lord... I..." she looked shocked, but he cut of her tremulous exclamation. A deep sense of the wrong he had done her, through her brother, gave him a sort of courage.

"Mademoiselle, it was a great honor for me to meet you." Then he finally gave voice to the thought that had been torturing him. "If it had not been for you, that boy would have been dead. Dead, because I was too slow."

She started to protest, but he interrupted her again, desperate now, to ask the final, most important question.

"Please, may I... may I visit you again sometime?" The words had been said. Olivier held his breath.

"I am... overwhelmed by the honor, milord." From her, the common words rang with a sincerity beyond anything he had ever heard.

"The honor is all mine." But the words, so familiar, sounded empty. Olivier bowed a final time. "Truly, it is."

And the young Count left, his head on fire, tears in his eyes, and a song in his heart.

"Brother, Sabine? Am I your 'brother' now?" Charles had finally left his corner, and his voice rang with a deep bitterness.

The young woman smiled. Her awed look was gone, and now she seemed complete mistress of herself … and of him. This was the Sabine Charles knew. "what else could I have said? 'Please meet my lover, the priest and thief?'"

Charles knew he no answer would avail him. But neither could he just watch his Sabine, the Sabine for whom he had abandoned his faith and became a criminal, seduce another man before his eyes.

He changed angles. "What happened today?"

"Oh, nothing. This poor, young, little boy just happened to fall into the street, right in front of a rushing horse. And this dear, noble, Count was too far away to save him. So I did instead."

" 'just happened' " Charles repeated the words dully, as if afraid of understanding their meaning.

Sabine positively grinned, a sinister grin Charles had never seen before. "Heroics are the best way to draw attention of men of Comte de la Fere's caliber. So I organized an opportunity."

This was too much for Charles. "You admit it?! You nearly killed a child to begin flirting with this man! And you say that, in so many words, to me … to me, who has given up everything for you?!"

"Don't be a fool, Charles." She was positively disdainful. "Did you expect to live like this forever, as a poor priest's mistress? Maybe when I am the Comtesse de la Fere, you can petition to me for a better job."

She laughed as she spotted the look on her lover's face. "Oh, and, by the way, I need whatever money you have left. I have to buy a new dress for my visit to the Count's mansion tomorrow."

Charles fainted. Sabine smiled.


End file.
